


The Shadowhunter's Pulse

by Fluxx, KioneM



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Grieving, Healing, M/M, Malec, Memorials, Pulse - Freeform, Tribute
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-13
Updated: 2017-06-13
Packaged: 2018-11-13 09:02:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11181447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluxx/pseuds/Fluxx, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KioneM/pseuds/KioneM
Summary: A tribute in memory of the 49.One Love. One Orlando. One Pulse.





	The Shadowhunter's Pulse

**Author's Note:**

> My memories of Pulse are distant. The more prominent ones are from inside the club, and anything I remember from outside was in the dark of night. I can't recall a lot of the specifics, but I recall the friendship, the acceptance, and the love. As we'd moved away many years ago, we've yet to make it to the memorial, and so my account here is unfortunately second-hand at best.
> 
> It is not my intent to prey upon the tragedy and pains of others. As a writer who often has trouble expressing themselves verbally, this is how I process, grieve, remember. I hope that, in reading this, with Alec as your conduit, it helps you do the same.

Alec stared at Raphael, making no attempts to hide his disdain. It didn't matter how much time had passed, he still couldn't quite forgive the vampire for what transgressed between him and Izzy.

On some level, Raphael and Magnus both had come to understand and accept that. Still, there seemed to be an odd taste to the quiet they stood in, the quiet itself something Alec couldn't quite remember ever experiencing around the two of them. Raphael actively avoided making eye contact with him, and though a great many things appeared to be on the tip of his tongue his mouth remained pursed, as if something might break if he so much as took a breath.

Magnus was acting strange as well, though not in a way Alec could quite pinpoint. The Warlock seemed nervous, almost. Unsure. Between the two of them, Alec couldn't help but feel like some weighty secret stretched between them, and it irritated Alec to think something was being hidden from him. He kept his silence only because he didn't care to talk to Raphael and Magnus was still busy preparing something in the kitchen. When he finally emerged, Alec's anxiety reached a peak, seeing three freshly cut roses laying in his open palm. All of his theories flew out the window, leaving him with truly no idea why Magnus had gathered the both of them at once, not beyond Magnus' vague admission that he intended on portaling them somewhere.

As he handed a rose to Raphael, Magnus tilted his head, trying to catch the vampire's eyes. "...Are you ready?"

Still, he spoke not a word, simply nodding as he grew transfixed with the deep red petals resting upon his fingertips.

"Magnus, where are we going?" Alec finally asked, reaching out to accept the rose Magnus offered him. In spite of his frustrations with the Warlock, he looked down to examine it, curiosity running rampant. Magnus could easily have summoned perfect roses with a wave of his hand if he'd wanted. Instead, he'd taken the time to walk to the nearest florist, to actually pay for the blooms, and to delicately cut them by hand. It was a nice enough gesture, Alec supposed, but though lovely the flowers were far from perfect, their stalks speckled with thorns of varying size and color and a couple of their petals already showing the early signs of wilting. They were the kind of flaws a person wouldn't take notice of unless they looked for it, and even then would far sooner appreciate them as the declarations of authenticity rather than shameful marks of ugliness.

"Orlando," Magnus finally admitted, a distinct choke affecting his voice.

He didn't really know what he'd expected. Certainly not  _that_. He looked up with a raised brow, his surprise enough to cast away the resentment he'd been collecting in Raphael's presence. "...what?"

Magnus looked at Raphael. Raphael looked away. Magnus sighed and looked back at Alec, putting on a smile as his free hand moved to grasp Alec's shoulder. "You'll understand when we arrive."

Alec shrugged and shook his head. "Alright, if you say so..." Eying Raphael, he didn't have much faith in the assurance, but no amount of muttering was going to bring him any closer to figuring out the Downworlders' cryptic behavior.

Turning around, Magnus wove his hand through the air, and soon a gleaming, purple vortex swelled to life before them. Without a word, Raphael swiftly walked through it, apparently eager to get to the other side. Or away from Alec. Or both.

Magnus stepped near the portal's edge, then paused and looked back to offer Alec his free hand. "Come along, my darling. We won't be long."

A wariness held him back, a foreboding anxiety that gripped his heart. Some part of him knew whatever waited beyond the portal would hurt, that he wouldn't like it, that the loft was safer and nicer and happier. Another part felt the gravity of it all, knowing that if Magnus felt it was  _this_ important that it must be, that his boyfriend wouldn't lead him towards something painful without very good reason. At last, he nodded, then reached out to take Magnus' outstretched hand. The weave of their fingers felt like a blanket, wrapping him in a comforting warmth to ward against the impending cold. It didn't dispel the churning in the pit of his stomach, but it helped, and he stepped forward with a renewed faith.

When the magic pulled away from his eyes, the harsh light of bright street lights greeted him, drowning out the stars gleaming high overhead. The loud sounds of a bustling city roared around him, filled with the chaotic nature of life. Oddly, it matched the overwhelming display before him, objects of every color imaginable decorating the street, the trees, the signs, the chain-link fence. Only one thing remained untouched: a white, skewed oval held within a black square, towering above the rest upon resiliently grey pillars. The black of the sign had been allowed to cross the oval's edge, a clear and proud "P" silhouetted in the angelic glow. Below read a single word, written in small caps: PULSE.

Alec knew what the colors meant, and immediately grew uncomfortable. He shifted upon the humidity-moistened lawn and began to turn around. "Magnus, I don't need—"

Magnus tightened his hold of Alec's hand, but his face remained still, feline eyes held captive by the swirling dance of rainbows. "Look, Alec."

He stared at Magnus' staring eyes, bewildered. He knew Magnus to keep them perpetually glamoured, even at home, even when it was just the two of them, save for those special occasions he was feeling particularly at peace with himself. Certainly not outside, not in public, not surrounded on every front by...

Finally, as his dark eyes scanned the scene, Alec began to see the people flocking around them. Their clothes camouflaged them among the full-spectrum backdrop, their poses and manners and expressions imperceptible until Alec found and focused on each individual. His manner stilled, but not the contortions gripping his heart, and he slowly understood that what he felt wasn't discomfort at having his recently-embraced sexuality thrown in his face but rather a deep and needling grief, the same he saw spilling off of every person his eyes dared linger upon.

Eventually, his eyes came to settle on one of the many murals hung from the rainbow-dressed fence. He counted fourty-nine birds elegantly captured mid-flight across a black canvas, their colors uniting into a top-to-bottom rainbow across their silhouettes. The number seemed odd to him at first, but as he continued looking across the other paintings and banners he found the number repeated again and again, and as he perceived deeper through the abundant rainbows he began to see faces, the same ones over and over, staring back at him from photos, portraits, collages.

It left him shaken for reasons he didn't yet understand, his voice reduced to a hoarse whisper. "...Why?"

There were so many different questions wrapped up into the same word, each of them loaded in their own way. Magnus' eyes took on a glisten in the harsh illumination, glazing across everything and seeing nothing in particular. "There's a story a few decades old, from one of the Mundanes' wars. Night had fallen across the battlefield, and with it a bitter cold. Though the fighting found itself in a momentary still, men filled the trenches, watching and waiting just in case they saw movement from the other side. Nothing came, however, and they began to question why they were even there in the first place. Of course, they had their orders from their superiors, and they knew the reasons that had been passed down to them, but on this night in particular those reasons seemed perhaps distant and alien, not their own. You see, it was a very certain night of the year, one important to even those among them who didn't believe in the religion it belonged to."

Alec followed along, feeling something like a child. Somehow, he found comfort in that, in being allowed all of the naïveté and innocence that came along with it, granted a reprieve, no matter how brief, from the tragedy sprawled all around him. His voice reflected this, small and delicate and gentle. "Christmas Eve?"

Magnus nodded, then continued. "You see, regardless of creed, nationality, race, or politics, they all shared one thing in common: the desire to be home. They would finally come to realize this universal feeling when a single voice disturbed the silence. No one knows for sure which side it came from, but it didn't really matter, because it didn't stand alone for very long. There, lying under the vast sea of stars, they all lifted their voices, each in their native tongue, wrapping each other in the comfort of a shared _Silent Night_."

The colorful scene blurred behind the tears developing in Alec's eyes. "I don't even know them."

"You don't need to." Magnus allowed that truth a moment to sink in before he spoke again. "There are some things which transcend individuals, worlds, time itself." He turned his head and nodded towards where Raphael had approached the crowd. To Alec's astonishment, the vampire was both hugging and being hugged by people he felt certain didn't know who he was. What was more, though most of them were Mundanes there was another vampire, a warlock, a couple werewolves, even a few Shadowhunters, all of them interacting as though nothing separated them. "I... I know it's been difficult for you, Alexander. I know you feel like you've betrayed your family, your community. I wanted you to see, to understand, that whether or not any of that is true you still have _this_  family, _this_  community. You always have, and you always will."

It was anyone's guess whether Alec understood or believed him. At the very least, Magnus felt sure Alec wouldn't turn away, and so finally let go of the Shadowhunter's hand. "When you're ready," he replied, stepping forward across the lawn and, eventually, the street separating them from the gathering.

Alec watched Magnus meld into the crowd, feeling moisture on his cheeks but refusing to wipe it away. As he'd expected, it hurt, it was painful, but he no longer wanted to push it away. Much the opposite, he wanted to know more, and the question of whether they'd allow him to hurt almost as much as the memorial itself. Eventually, he found the strength to approach them, more nervous about it than any demon he'd ever set out to face. His feet carried him slowly along the dark asphalt, his uncertainty swelling with every step he took.

Finally, color slid into view around his feet as he breached the memorial's perimeter, and he stopped. He lifted his face to take in more of his new surroundings, studying the sea of flowers and ribbons and epithets. Now standing among them, he saw many visitors held candles, or had lit ones that stood on the ground beside makeshift altars. As his senses adjusted, he started to hear the faint, choked sobs, punctuated on occasion by the strained laughter of a fond memory.

"Hey."

Alec turned, startled. A teary-eyed girl stood beside him, another girl's arm looped about her waist. She smiled through her sorrow, a hand outstretched, and it wasn't until Alec saw the tissue clasped between her fingers that he realized he'd started quietly crying. It stunned him as much as having a Mundane so openly approach him stunned him, and try as he might he couldn't get his tongue to voice the words caught in his throat.

_I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry._

A familiar hand found his shoulder, and relief eased him at the familiar face beside it. "He's still new to..." Magnus trailed off a bit, then turned and gestured to their surroundings.

Alec bowed his head as he accepted the tissue. "Thank you," he finally whispered, surprised at how strained his voice sounded.

The girls seemed to understand him in a way he still didn't. The other girl turned and pointed to a particular cluster of flowers near the fence, a low, beige structure barely perceptible through the blooms. "That plaque lists their names."

He stared at the structure with mixed apprehension and eagerness. A part of him still didn't want to know. The rest of him  _had_ to. He nodded as he finished drying his face, then offered the girls a small smile. "Thank you."

Magnus let him lead the way, turning his rose over in his fingertips. Having him there gave Alec a certain ease, but by now he understood why the warlock had made him approach alone. This,  _all_ of this... It was something Alec had to do for himself, something he had to step into of his own, full accord and digest at his own pace. Now, crouched before the unassuming plaque, he knew he was right where he needed to be, Magnus to one side and Raphael walking up behind his other. Together, they lowered their roses among the other offerings circling the plaque, and as they rose Alec's eyes fell one-by-one down the names frosted into the glass pane, suspended atop a rainbow backdrop.

_Alejandro Barrios Martinez. Brenda Lee Marquez McCool. Gilberto Ramon Silva Menendez. Kimberly Morris. Akyra Monet Murray. Luis Omar Ocasio-Capo. Geraldo A. Ortiz-Jimenez. Eric Ivan Ortiz-Rivera. Joel Rayon Paniagua. Jean Carlos Mendez Perea. Enrique L. Rios, Jr. Jean Carlos Nieves Rodríguez. Zavier Emmanuel Serrano-Rosado. Christopher Joseph Sanfeliz. Yilmary Rodríguez Solivan. Edward Sotomayor Jr. Shane Evan Tomlinson. Martin Benitez Torres. Jonathan Antonio Camuy Vega. Juan P. Rivera Velázquez. Luis S. Vielma. Franky Jimmy Dejesus Velazquez. Luis Daniel Wilson-Leon. Jerald Arthur Wright. Stanley Almodovar III. Amanda Alvear. Oscar A. Aracena-Montero. Rodolfo Ayala-Ayala. Antonio Davon Brown. Darryl Roman Burt II. Angel L. Candelario-Padro. Juan Chavez-Martinez. Luis Daniel Conde. Cory James Connell. Tevin Eugene Crosby. Deonka Deidra Drayton. Simon Adrian Carrillo Fernandez. Leroy Valentin Fernandez. Mercedez Marisol Flores. Peter O. Gonzalez Cruz. Juan Ramon Guerrero. Paul Terrell Henry. Frank Hernandez. Miguel Angel Honorato. Javier Jorge-Reyes. Jason Benjamin Josaphat. Eddie Jamoldroy Justice. Anthony Luis Laureanodisla. Christopher Andrew Leinonen._

His hand found Magnus', and he clasped it tight. His eyes remained transfixed upon the names, repeating the list over and over in his mind. He didn't know any of them, nor any of the many who had come to celebrate their lives and mourn their deaths. He knew, likewise, that none of these people would ever really know him, that they would never remember his life nor know if he died. Regardless of all that, he felt their love and acceptance, and in it found the family Magnus promised him he'd always had. He closed his eyes and took a deep, centering breath, and when he lifted his face and opened his eyes once more he beheld the full and expansive beauty around him, uniting him with everyone around him in a pervasive, unspoken bond. For all that he wanted to say, there was ultimately only one thing he could.

"Thank you."


End file.
